OUT OF THE PAST

In Spring 1994, my girlfriend at the time (B.D.), asked me if I could help an acquaintance, Mike, with his computer science programming project, for a fee. I told her that I had to see it first before making any determination. It turned out to be five distinct programming assignments -- no header was indicating their origin.We agreed on $50.00 per assignment. Upon completion,things did not go smoothly : I was highly annoyed to hear Mike say that he had only $150.00, and would like to choose three solutions from the five. Had it not for B.D., my response would have been short and sweet : take five or nothing, because your request came after the whole job was done. Mike came over to my home (Cambria Heights, Queens, NYC), picked up the floppy disk containing the work (minus two solutions). I never heard of him until our paths crossed again nine years later in unusual circumstances: Mike became Dr. Michael Wiltshire, my principal, my tormentor.

On March 17, 2003, the Brooklyn High Schools Superintendant reassigned me to Medgar Evers Preparatory School, following trumped-up charges of corporal punishment at Canarsie High School that fizzled out as the principal himself was being driven out by parents and staff. When Dr. Michael Wiltshire saw me he became pale, tried vainly to build a composure. " I did not request a math teacher", he blurted out. "I have no vacancy. " I handed in the reassignment letter, pointing out that, as a tenured teacher, I was not in search of position, certainly not in my field -- math. He suggested that I return to the Superintendent's Office. I got annoyed : "They sent me. I suggest that you call and discuss the matter with them".
Reluctantly, Wiltshire gave me a teaching program : his statistics class and a SAT prep class : hardly enough to satisfy the regular five-period teaching load.
I thought naively that Wiltshire would embrace me, not that I was expecting a particular favor, because I was qualified and his superior sent me ; if there ever was someone in the world who could vouch for my qualification it was him.
To dispel any misgivings he might entertain about my math credentials I gave him copies of my graduate transcripts.
This tenured teacher of fifteen-year experience was reduced to substituting for the absentees 60% of the time, while at least two colleagues with inadequate background were teaching. Dr. Wiltshire kept his own freshman math class, and yet he was often absent : I filled in for him at least ten times, even when he was in the building.

At the end of the school year our tense relationship reached its climax when Wiltshire told me that I could not come back to Middle College High School after the summer vacation, unless I submitted an application to the recruitment committee (a cover for his patronage activities ), as dictated by the school SBO status ,he claimed. I refused and left, determined to challenge his arbitrary decision. In the meantime, to bring this parvenu down a peg or two I made available to the school staff copies of a letter recounting our story.
To oppose my reassignment, Wiltshire took advantage (unscrupulously) of the temporary administrative vacuum created in late June 2003 when the Brooklyn High Schools Superintendant Office was eliminated under the DOE new administrative structure. I was not about to allow (once again) a rogue principal to abuse his power and hurt me in all impunity.